


A Little Fall of Rain

by Avocados-in-Love (Zorro_sci)



Category: Daredevil (Netflix)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love?, honestly this is a plot bunny that got away from me, it's canon that Foggy loves musicals okay, references to Les Miserables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorro_sci/pseuds/Avocados-in-Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy loves musicals.  Les Misérables is one of his favorites.  He just wishes he weren't Éponine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Fall of Rain

_Where did it all go so wrong?_ Foggy wondered as he continued his journey to nowhere.

He had passed Matt on the street earlier in the day, which shouldn't really have been a surprise occurrence. They did only live a few blocks apart. . . .but just catching sight of him had hurt like a stab wound to Foggy's heart, followed by a bizarre, almost out-of-body numbness.

It was like seeing a ghost, which was ridiculous. Matt might have been ripped from his life, but he knew he wasn't dead. Okay, he was _pretty_ sure he wasn't dead, (who knew with Daredevil?).

Still, it had all been unsettling enough that he began to wandered around aimlessly, his feet moving on autopilot. He wandered seeking quiet, or comfort, or distance, or _something_ to help him make sense of this.

Nelson and Murdock was closed. Closed never to be reopened; and Foggy still couldn't believe it. 

Sure, he had been the one to suggest closing the office, but only _temporarily_. Only until they could smooth some things over. Only until they were on the same page . . .and, okay, part of him had hoped that the temporary closing would make Matt realize how much the practice meant to him. That he would realize the firm they had dreamed about was suffering because of his moonlighting, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for him to retire from vigilantism. That he would decide he had his priorities wrong, and focus on what he'd spent years studying and working to achieve.

Honestly though, Foggy knew that Matt wouldn't stop. At least not entirely. Matt was extremely stubborn, and unwaveringly convinced he was doing good in the mask, (and there were even times when Foggy agreed). 

No, his plan had been to take a step back, and to look for balance. The way things had been was unstable. There had been a troubling pattern of Matt deciding things unilaterally, and expecting Foggy to follow through. A pattern that Foggy had denied or excused until it blew up in both of their faces. That wasn't healthy, and it needed to be addressed. They needed to make their decisions about the practice _together_ ; or at least have the one who made a decision, or took a case, be the one who took responsibility for it and saw it through if they made choices separately. Foggy didn't think that request was unreasonable. 

So he presented his plan to Matt, and it blew up in his face spectacularly. Matt got defensive, and decided that a scorch earth policy was clearly the way to proceed. Why close temporarily when you could do it permanently?

Just like that, and Foggy couldn't help but feel hurt. He couldn't help but feel that if Matt could end their partnership that easily, that maybe he never meant as much as to Matt as Matt did to Foggy.

It hurt and he was angry. Angry at Matt for twisting his words. Angry at himself for not presenting his plan better. Angry at Matt for implying that _Foggy_ was the inflexible one for wanting Matt to even _consider_ putting away the mask, (fully knowing he wouldn't), when Matt himself seemed willing to accept nothing less than complete approval of Daredevil from Foggy. (Foggy could understand Matt wanting that, but it wasn't something Foggy could do. He could never _fully_ embrace Daredevil, because Daredevil put Matt's life at risk, and Foggy could never be okay with that. . . .Sort of like Foggy wanted Matt to love him the same way he loved Matt, but that was impossible. Matt loved him as a friend [maybe? Current circumstances made it hard to tell], but he wasn't capable of more. He was straight, and that was that, so Foggy had [mostly] made his peace with that. . .but such trains of thought were not helping.)

Point being, Foggy had been angry. He'd seethed with it, and silently felt righteous in his indignation as they sought to tie up the last of their loose ends with the DA.

Then they were caught in a hail of bullets, and Matt saved his life. He pushed him out of the way and . . .he left him alone bleeding on a stretcher. He had to have heard what Foggy wasn't saying. He had to know how scared Foggy was; how much pain he was in. 

He could hear his heartbeat! He could probably smell the fear on him! . . .and even if he couldn't, they had been friends for _ten_ years! How could he not hear how much Foggy wanted him to stay! How much Foggy _needed_ him!

The raging fire of Foggy's anger went out in an icy blast as he realized that Matt just didn't care. He couldn't care; at least not much if he could leave so easily. Friends didn't leave their friends when they were vulnerable and hurt.

Sure, Matt saved his life, but he regularly did that for strangers. It didn't mean he was emotionally invested in them or their lives. He cared about them as fellow human beings. He didn't wish them evil. He wanted them to be safe, but that's where his commitment ended. Remove the danger, get them help, and disappear into the night.

Foggy just didn't think _he_ fell into the same category as those who Matt saved without even knowing their names. He thought he mattered to him on a _personal_ level. . . But he was wrong.

When Matt was hurt, Foggy sat up with him all night. He kept guard over him, made sure he was safe, even though he had never felt more betrayed than when he discovered Matt's secret. When Matt disappeared, he scoured the rooftops for him, and then carried him home when he found him. He would do anything for Matt; no matter how angry he was, or how rough things were between them. . . .apparently the same could not be said for Matt.

( _No! There's some other reason he left. There has to be._

 _Surely he'll come once he's dealt with it. Surely he'll want to make sure I'm okay. He cares,_ Foggy's brain countered.)

Matt would come. Foggy knew he would. He was so sure he asked every visitor he had if they had seen Matt. Was he on his way to see Foggy?

He never was. Foggy spent a day and a half in the hospital, and Matt never came. Never even sent his concern or get well wishes through an intermediary.

It was over. Truly over between them; and he wasn't even angry. He just felt resigned. Like someone who had made peace with missing a part of themselves, even as they still felt the pain of a phantom limb.

He felt defeated. A feeling that only had grown exponentially when he ran into Matt at the office, and he didn't ask him to stay. Didn't seem to even consider it. Just let Foggy go without a fuss. The end of a partnership in a pathetic whimper. A dissolution that suddenly seemed all too inevitable.

That was the last that Foggy had seen of Matt; well until that afternoon. Until a passing glimpse of a certain blind lawyer, (was he still a lawyer? Or had he left that behind too?), had him reeling as it ignited a dull, constant ache back into a sharp, searing pain. Until just a quick glance had made it hard for him to breathe.

Just thinking about it again, tightened his chest. He swiped a hand over his face, cursing his weakeness. He should be able to move past this. He should be able to see Matt in passing without feeling like he was dying. He shouldn't be this pathetic.

He was wet, (when had it started raining?), and cold, and it was past time for him to get home. So, he got his bearings, and started on the fastest route back to his apartment, but he didn't get far.

He'd made it maybe two blocks when he heard what sounded like a fight a few alleys over.

Foggy knew he should turn around, and call the cops as he got as far away as possible. . .but what if . . . .

He edged half a block closer, listening intently and staying close to the building.

"Run!" a familiar, albeit slightly deeper than normal, voice growled from the within the alley.

Foggy's heart nearly stopped. Matt.

A scared couple rushed out of the alley half a block in front of him, and then took off down the street. They clutched onto each other, one slightly bloodied, and both clearly terrified. Both too distracted to notice Foggy as they ran past him.

Who was Matt facing in that alley?

Foggy crept forward slowly, pressing up against the corner of the building as he reached the alley. He steeled his courage, and then carefully peeked around the corner.

There were four men, and Matt in his Daredevil costume, trying to kick the shit out of each other. Two men were sprawled on the ground, one was taking a run at Matt's back, and one was currently being punched in the face by his best-friend-turned-vigilante.

The punched man hit the ground, and Matt quickly turned to face the man behind him, both of them getting in a few good hits. They broke apart panting, preparing to continue their bout, when the recently punched man sprung up from the ground and pulled Matt into a headlock from behind, while the man on his feet loosed a right hook on Matt's jaw.

The blow seemed to stun Matt, who temporarily stopped his struggle to break the hold on him. Meanwhile, one of the men on the ground had come around, and he was reaching for . . . 

"No! Gun!"

Foggy rushed forward without thinking, screaming and launching himself at the man with the gun. Four heads snapped in his direction, and a shot rang out.

Pain. Intense, blinding pain. Just like last time, but worse.

Distantly, Foggy was aware of someone yelling, and the sound of intense fighting and bones breaking. 

What was happening? Did the man still have the gun?

Foggy hoped not, but he was focusing all of his energy on not blacking out, so he wasn't sure.

He tried to focus on breathing through the pain, but he could hardly breathe at all. He felt like he had a weight on his chest, impeding every breath.

" . . -gy. Foggy!" 

Matt! Was Matt safe? Mustering all the strength he had, Foggy managed to shift himself in his attempt to find Matt, who, thankfully looked unharmed beyond the standard cuts and bruises and was running toward him at full speed. 

"Don't try to move!"

Matt fell to the ground at his side, tore off the mask, and ripped off his gloves with his teeth. His bare hands hovered over Foggy for a second before feeling for the wound and then pressing down on it. Hard.

Foggy screamed as a white-hot jolt of pain sliced through him.

"Foggy! Foggy, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Foggy! Oh, Foggy, why did you have to do that? Why?!?"

Thinking was hard. It felt like wading through knee deep mud, but somehow Foggy made sense of Matt's desperate string of words.

"He was going to shoot you. . . .co . .couldn't let him hurt you, Matty," he managed to answer weakly.

Matt choked out a sob, and Foggy felt a few stray teardrops land on his face. . .or were they raindrops? It was still raining, right?

"Yes, it's raining . . .but don't worry, you'll be out of the rain soon. You'll be safe, and dry, before you know it," Matt promised.

He dropped his forehead down to touch Foggy's and continued in a whisper right in his ear, "Help's coming, Foggy. Just hold on. Hold on. You won't have to be out in the rain very long."

Huh, dying in the rain, beside the man he loved, who didn't love him back. 

"'A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now,'" Foggy responded weakly.

He knew it was probably wildly inappropriate to quote musicals as you lie dying in an alley, and it probably said something about him that he would, but he couldn't be bothered with such things at the moment.

Besides, any thoughts along that line were derailed when Matt made a sound that was so broken, it snapped Foggy's heart clean in two.

"Don't . . .Foggy, you're going to live. . . .you're going to . . ." 

Matt's words dissolved into strangled sobs.

"It's okay. It's okay, Matt," he soothed, his voice weak, but determined. 

Matt shook his head weakly, his forehead brushing against Foggy's as he moved. His mouth moved like he wanted to speak, but he couldn't through all the gasping heaves and whimpers that were being torn from him.

"It _is_ okay, Matty. You're here, and you're safe. I couldn't ask for more. . . . I love you, Matty."

"Foggy . . . Foggy . . . I . . . No! Foggy! Foggy . . ."

Matt sounded anguished. Foggy hated that, but he couldn't help anymore. He could feel himself slipping. He would just have to trust that Matt would be okay. Of course he would be. He didn't need Foggy. Not like Foggy needed him. He might be a little sad for a bit, but he'd be fine when Foggy was gone. 

Matt was saying something, but he couldn't make sense of it. Awareness was fading. Everything was too heavy. Darkness was closing in, and . . . .

 

 

 

 

"Foggy?"

Awareness returned slowly. First a hopeful sounding, distance voice and a faint, repetitive beeping. Then a floating feeling like being underwater, followed by a 100 mile per hour, brick wall impact with unbearable pain.

Foggy groaned.

"Foggy?" the same voice, ( _Matt_ , his brain provided helpfully), asked; sounding a little bit more hopeful.

Through the wall of pain, Foggy felt someone, ( _Matt_ , his brain reminded), squeeze his hand.

"Foggy, I was so worried. I thought . . . I thought I l-lost you."

Wet spots formed on the back of Foggy's hand. . .tears? No, that couldn't be right. Matt didn't care. Matt sent him away . . .but in the alley. . . .from what Foggy could remember, Matt had seemed devastated. He had made noises that sounded like they were coming from a wounded animal. That had to mean . . .something.

Foggy slowly regained control of his eyes, and managed to get them open. Then with a slight shift of his head, (that took pretty much all of his energy, and hurt like hell), he saw him.

He saw Matt, hunched in a chair beside his bed, crying, (tear theory confirmed). 

He wasn't wearing his glasses, (which was weird, because they were definitely in a hospital, and Matt never went without his glasses in public spaces), and he looked absolutely wrecked. His usual stubble was at least a few days worth of beard growth, his appearance was rumpled, and his eyes were red and swollen.

"Matty." (Okay it sounded more like "mmmhheeeey," but he was trying!)

"Foggy," Matt repeated, relief coursing through his voice as he stood and gently pressed a soft kiss to Foggy's forehead.

He pulled back, and smiled at Foggy, his whole face beaming even through its current haggardness. But his smile was quickly replaced by a contemplative frown, and instead of returning to his seat, he grabbed his glasses from his pocket, and his cane from the wall behind him, and ducked out into the hall for a minute.

He returned with a nurse, who was followed by a doctor. 

They both examined Foggy, and tried to explain what had happened, but he wasn't really in any condition to understand what they were saying. 

He was so tired, everything hurt, and understanding words took work and somehow made everything hurt more. He caught that he had been shot, (like he would forget that any time soon). 

They also said something about a chest tube, which seemed important, but he would have to ask them later because they might as well be speaking Greek for as much sense as he could make of it. He was pretty sure they also said something about grogginess, and being back later, so maybe it was okay that he felt like he barely had two brain cells to rub together.

"Rest, Foggy," Matt commanded as he placed another kiss on Foggy's brow, and then returned to his perch beside Foggy, grabbing his hand in his own as he sat.

That sounded like a good idea, (and Matt was so smart, using the fewest number of words possible to talk to him. His scrambled brain silently thanked him), so he let himself drift back to sleep.

When he awoke, he found Matt staring at him with a furrowed brow while still clutching his hand. He looked so troubled, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"What's wrong, Matty?" Foggy asked softly.

"You're not Éponine," he said seriously, frown deepening.

"What?"

Foggy's . . .everything . . .hurt too much to understand what Matt meant by that. Was it some sort of code?

"In the alley . . .when . . .when you thought you were dying, you said, 'a little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now' . . . .like Éponine in Les Misérables."

Right . . . . That . . . .

"It seemed like an appropriate thing to say at the time."

"Why?"

Foggy would have shrugged, if he thought he could do so without being in agony, but that seemed unlikely, (besides, a shrug was a bit of a wasted gesture, even if Matt could sort of sense the movement, so the payoff wasn't worth it).

"It was raining. I was dying . . . ." ( _I love you, but you don't love me . . .and there is nowhere I'd rather die than in your arms . . ._ )

"And you love me?"

Foggy winced.

"I'm guessing I told you that as some sort of deathbed confession?"

Matt nodded slowly, his face suddenly looking slightly haunted.

"It was the last thing you said before . . . " 

His words broke off, and his face crumpled.

"So, I'm guessing you can see the parallels. . . ."

"There's one major difference."

( _Not in any of the ways that matter,_ Foggy thought.)

"What's that? . . . Éponine was a woman? We don't live in France? It's not the 19th century?" Foggy offered overly cheerfully, ( _please drop it_ ).

"Details," Matt dismissed with a hand wave, but his face remained a strange combination of earnest and determined; he wasn't going to let this go.

"I lived?" Foggy tried tentatively.

"Okay, maybe two major differences . . ." he conceded, before adding softly, "I guess God listened to my 'words of love.'"

Foggy swallowed. 'Words of love'? ( _Prayers,_ his brain interpreted neutrally. _Matt's very Catholic. He **had** to be praying for you. . .and you referenced the song, so he's just doing the same. He doesn't mean anything by it._ )

"I give up," he whispered hoarsely. "What's the difference?"

"Marius didn't love Éponine. . .at best, he considered her a friend, albeit one that he unknowingly took advantage of, only to realize that too late . . .and at worst he felt nothing for her other than pity."

( _Sounds right. Your point?_ )

Matt seemed to be waiting for something, but when Foggy sat in silence, he continued.

"I might not have been the best friend to you . . .actually, I know I wasn't a very good friend to you. That's why I told you to leave. You deserved, you **deserve** , better. . . .Better than someone who doesn't pull their weight. Better than someone who makes all the decisions without consulting you, and doesn't even realize that until afterward . . .so they don't treat you like an equal, like you deserve. . . .Better than someone who puts you in danger.

I was dragging you down, and I loved you too much to be a shackle around your ankle. . . I was drowning you, and I couldn't do that to you anymore. . . .

That's why you're not Éponine . . .because I love you. . ."

Wait, what? That was a lot of information, but there was one piece of it that stuck out as particularly shocking.

"You love me?" Foggy questioned in disbelief.

"More than you know . . . in that alley . . . I would have ripped out my still beating heart from my chest with my _bare hands_ , and given it to you, if I thought it would have saved you. . . Without a bit of hesitation," he replied sincerely.

"Well . . .that's . . .graphic," Foggy replied hesitantly, (it was kind of sweet, but . . .yeesh!).

"I know," Matt conceded. "But, Foggy, your heart . . .it sounded so weak, and then right before the paramedics arrived, it stopped. . . .and I kept thinking, that if only I could give you my heart, then the world could be right again.

You'd be safe, like I always wanted . . .and you would know, that I loved you too. That I loved you enough to give you my heart, because it always belonged to you anyway."

"Matt . . ."

"But, I knew that was impossible, so I started CPR, and I prayed like I've never prayed before. 

I pleaded with God. I told Him just how much I loved you, and just how much the world needed you. That the world would be darker without your sunshiny optimism, and your corny jokes, and your bubbly laugh, and your friendly demeanor, and the way you help anyone you can, however you can, no matter how much or how little you have. 

I told Him, that I would be lost without you. . .That you taught me how to accept friendship, and that justice isn't just about meting out punishment for wrong-doers, but also about empathy, and gentle hugs, and a listening ear for the victims. That you taught me how to laugh, and that life was about the hard AND the soft. That you cared about me, and accepted me as I was; and even though I was angry about you not being more supportive of my choice to be Daredevil, you risked your reputation and your life more than once to help with things I was doing while in the mask.

. . .and then the paramedics came, and by some miracle they restarted your heart, and it kept beating all the way to the hospital, and through surgery, and they were telling me that they were cautiously optimistic that you would recover, and I knew that God had heard me, because the odds weren't in your favor. 

When someone's heart stops after a gunshot wound, it doesn't usually restart, at least not for long. . . .so I spent the last three days by your side, thanking God that your heart was still beating every waking moment . . . and pleading that it would be the day you woke up."

"Thank Him for me too, buddy."

"I will."

"Three days, huh? That's a long time to wait."

"Worth it to get you back. . . . Besides, it gave me time to research Les Misérables . . . I knew what you said was from a musical, and it seemed important . . .but I didn't remember which one it was in. 

I was pretty sure it was from that one that they made into a movie about four or five years ago . . . The one you made me watch with you. Five times. 

I also remembered that it always made you cry when you watched it . . .which by the way, is why I hated it, and never wanted to watch it with you. I know you think I hate musicals, but I really just hate it when you're sad . . .but it was the only one you ever insisted I watch with you, and you said it was your favorite, so I always gave in anyway.

So I asked Karen, and Les Misérables was the only musical she could think of that matched what I remembered. . . So after they kicked me out the first night, I went to your apartment, and I borrowed your DVD to do some research . . . And once I understood the reference, it broke my heart."

"I'm sorry, Matty. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"You don't need to be sorry. You just said what came to mind in the moment. 

Pain overrides all filters. Believe me, I know. I just wish I'd been more honest about how I feel, so that wasn't what came to mind. 

I had been a fool . . . That you could think I didn't care . . . Or even notice you . . . And I only had myself to blame . . . "

"No, Matty, don't . . ." 

"Don't what? Blame myself for making you think you were expendable to me? Because I don't deserve an out for that. 

Foggy . . .since I found out, it's weighed really heavily on my mind. . . Ask Karen and Claire. I talked both of them into watching the movie . . .and then press-ganged them into having many in-depth conversations about Éponine, Marius and Cosette with me. . . 

They didn't really want to, but they were too afraid to tell me no. . . I overheard Karen telling Claire that they should just get on with it, because even thought it was weird and slightly unsettling, she'd rather hear me rant about what an idiot Marius was than see me cry."

"You really talked Karen and Claire into watching a movie and analyzing it to death with you?" Foggy asked incredulously, (choosing to skip over the part about how Matt had apparently been crying so much it was unsettling Karen).

"I did," Matt confirmed. "I tried to get Marci to do it too, when she came by to check on you, but she wasn't so easily swayed."

"She wouldn't be."

"I knew it was a long shot."

"So what did you guys decide, in your little movie club?"

"Well, for starters, Marius is a blind idiot who's too caught up in his own life to recognize what's right in front of him, because he's selfish and stupid . . .and maybe if he had actually meant his 'words of love,' God would have had mercy, and Éponine would have lived, that's one of Claire's theories. . .but he was too caught up in his obsession with Cosette to care."

"I was with you until Cosette, because believe me, no one thinks we're actually talking about the musical anymore, and there's no way you fooled Claire and Karen into thinking that either . . .Wait! Did you tell them that I quoted Les Mis as I thought I was dying? Because that's kind of embarrassing. . . ." A thought occurred to him, and he groaned, "You didn't tell Marci did you? Because I'll never live that down."

"I didn't tell them, but I think they have their suspicions. Karen knows how much you love musicals, and something obviously started my obsession. 

I don't think Marci knows. . . she did say I was a blind idiot who wouldn't recognise a good thing even if I could see; and that I didn't deserve you, because I acted like an asshole and made you feel like you didn't matter, and showing up now was too little too late, but that you would forgive me anyway because you were too in love with me to have any self-preservation . . . But she probably would have said that anyway. . . I don't think she needed the movie for context."

"Great," Foggy groaned, (he would have to remind himself to thank/scold Marci next time he saw her. He knew that was her way of showing she cared about him, but no one got to talk to Matt like that). "But back to Cosette . . .who is Cosette in this strange real-life adaptation?"

"Daredevil."

Foggy huffed a laugh, but immediately regretted it as a pain shot up his side.

"Let me get this straight, you think you were too in love with _yourself_ to notice me? 

Because you're many things, buddy; selfish, though usually not intentionally, you have a cocky streak a mile-wide, and you can be conscending as hell, but it would be kinda hard to accuse you of being too in love with yourself. If anything, you worry me, because sometimes I think you **hate** yourself."

"I didn't say 'in love.' I said he had an obsession. . . Look, I'm not going to stop. I want to make that clear. . .but, I want to regain balance in my life. 

Daredevil is a part of who I am, but I don't want that part of my life to take over. . .and I never want it take priority over the most important thing in my life again; over you.

I know we still have a lot to figure out, but I want you to know, that going forward, I'm going to make it clear that you're what matters most to me. . . Even if I still 'run around dressed like a moron, and beat people up in a mask' some nights."

"I can live with that," Foggy said honestly.

"Good," replied Matt. "Because I love you. I never want to live without you again. I want you with me, everyday, for the rest of my life."

"I think that sounds like a good plan. I love you, too, Matty."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so yes, the title is a reference to the song that Éponine sings as she dies in Les Mis. I was listening to the soundtrack for the musical, and the idea of Foggy as Éponine, completely in love with and devoted to Matt, but him being clueless until it was too late, kinda of burrowed its way into my brain and wouldn't leave. Originally, Foggy was going to die in Matt's arms in the rain, and that was going to be the end, but as I developed the story, it didn't cooperate. So, the Les Mis reference is a little less of a parallel and more of conversation, but hopefully it works out anyway?
> 
> (Besides, I love Foggy too much to kill him.)
> 
> [for those interested in how uncooperative this was, I give you the following deleted scene:
> 
> "Wait, so you're suggesting that Éponine and Cosette become some type of sister wives for Marius? Like . . Éponine is the favorite wife, but she has to share him with Cosette sometimes? . . Do Éponine and Cosette ever hook up in this arrangement?"
> 
> "This is getting weird."
> 
> "Hey, you're the one who started the Dardevil equals Cosette analogy. You only have yourself to blame. Besides, we passed weird several analogies ago."]


End file.
